


There Is One Consolation In Being Sick; And That Is The Possibility That You May Recover To A Better State Than You Were Ever In Before

by Lord_What_Fools_These_Mortals_Be



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Alec Hardy Is Basically A Reverse Hypochondriac, Fever, Gen, He Doesn't Worry About His Health Even When He Should, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Sick Alec Hardy, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-10-01 18:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20360866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_What_Fools_These_Mortals_Be/pseuds/Lord_What_Fools_These_Mortals_Be
Summary: When Hardy doesn't turn up to work one day, Ellie goes round to his house to investigate. She finds a very sick, or in his words "completely fine" Hardy, and takes it upon herself to care for him, even if that means force-feeding him chicken soup.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this whole chapter in one sitting at 1 am and it's not beta read. No regrets.
> 
> The title is a quote by Henry David Thoreau

"Where's Hardy?" Ellie peeked through the door into his office. It was in exactly the same state it had been in when she'd left the previous night.

"Dunno," one of the detectives shrugged, "no one's seen him since yesterday. We figured he was out working a case with you or something."

Ellie frowned. This wasn't like Hardy. He had come into work fresh out of hospital when his bloody heart hadn't even been working right, for God's sake. It seemed very out of character for him not to turn up without so much as a note.

Then again, since they had closed the Winterman case, crime seemed to be at an all-time low in and around Broadchurch. Maybe Hardy had finally seen some sense and allowed himself a few well-deserved days of leave. 

But no, that didn't make sense either. Under certain circumstances, it might be conceivable for him to take time off work, but he'd still call to tell them he wasn't going to come in today.

She tried his mobile phone. It rang a few times and went to voicemail. Now that _was_ concerning. Hardy wasn't the type to ignore phone calls. Especially not from Ellie, or indeed anyone at work.

"Right..." Ellie sighed uneasily, unsure of what she should do. She didn't have any cases at the moment, so she figured she could leave for a bit to figure out where Hardy was and what was wrong with him. "I'll just go by his house then, and see what's going on. Maybe he decided to sleep for once in his life and forgot to set an alarm or something..."

The detective nodded, and Ellie walked back to her car, slightly worried.

\- - - -

When she arrived at Hardy's house half an hour later, she was relieved to see his car in the driveway. So he hadn't had a heart attack and crashed into a tree or something on his way to work. Not that this was a_ very _likely scenario since his pacemaker surgery, but it had always been a secret irrational fear of hers. She'd never admit it to anyone, least of all Hardy himself, but Ellie had grown quite fond of the grumpy detective and was genuinely worried about his well-being. She'd almost go so far as to consider him one of her closest friends, even though he would strongly object to that.

She rang the doorbell and knocked a couple of times, but nothing stirred inside the house. She sighed and retrieved the spare key from its hiding place inside a flower pot. Hardy knew she knew about this key, him being the one who'd told her about it ("just in case... for emergencies," he'd awkwardly added), but she still felt a bit guilty about using it, entering his house without his explicit permission.

"Sir?" Ellie called once she'd let herself in, "Hardy, are you alright? Are you there?"

She received no answer, but she saw his shoes standing in the hallway and his mobile, wallet, and keys on the kitchen table, so she reasoned he was probably somewhere in the house. 

Ellie entered further into the house, searching the rooms for any signs of Hardy. Again it felt wrong to violate his privacy like this, but she was growing more and more concerned.

She found her way upstairs and entered his bedroom, wondering what she'd find worse; him actually being in some sort of trouble, or him just having overslept and her creating an awkward moment by barging into his sleeping quarters unannounced.

She got her answer when she pushed open the bedroom door to find Hardy collapsed against the wall next to what she presumed to be the door leading to his bathroom. This was worse.

Rushing towards him, Ellie noticed that he reeked of vomit, and when she got closer she noticed that he had indeed thrown up over himself, the wall, and the floor, presumably on his way to the toilet.

"Sir, are you alright? Can you hear me?" she asked as she felt for his pulse, which to her great relief seemed to be totally fine. Not his heart then. She shook Hardy's arm gently. He groaned softly and tried to swat her hand away "Ge' off, Miller, jus' five more minutes..." he murmured.

But Ellie persisted. "Go on, wake up! If only to get the vomit off of you."

She nudged him again, and his eyelids fluttered open. His brow furrowed in confusion. A sheen of sweat was covering his whole face. "Miller? Wha''re you doin' here? This is ma house!"

"Well, you weren't in, working yourself to death today, so I instantly knew something was wrong and came to check up on you. Had a few too may las night?" she asked sarcastically, knowing full well there was no way this was hangover-induced.

Hardy opened his mouth, presumably to make some kind of smart-arse retort, but quickly closed it again and scrabbled further into the bathroom, this time making it to the toilet before being sick again.

Ellie winced in sympathy. "You alright?" she asked.

Hardy tried to shood her a glare, which would have been more effective, had he not currently been on the floor in vomit-soaked blue stripy pyjamas, half kneeling, half lying down next to the loo, his head resting weakly on the edge of the bowl.

"Do I _look_ like I'm..." He paused for another bout of heaving "...like I'm alright?" he finished weakly.

"No. You look like shit," Ellie informed him.

Hardy took a deep breath and started to pull himself to his feet with help of the sink. "Grea'. 'anks, Miller... Right, then... gimme a second. I'm just gonnae... get dressed and then I'll go..." He stopped talking and slumped against the wall, trying to fight off a wave of dizziness.

Ellie stared at him in disbelief. "Go where? You're not actually suggesting going to _work _in that condition?"

"Of course I am, why no'?" he asked and promptly answered his own question by collapsing back in front of the toilet.

"Alec," Ellie sighed, ignoring his displeased grumbling at the use of his first name, "come on, there's barely anything going on at the station anyway, and even if there were cases for us to work, I doubt you'd be any use there, taking a break every five minutes to throw up into the nearest bin. Take a sick day, what do you think they're for?"

Hardy scoffed "I'll be completely fine in a minute, it's just a wee spot o' bother..."

"Oh. My God. You are _actually_ acting worse than my five-year-old right now. Do I seriously have to treat you like one?"

"Ye're welcome 'o _try_!" Hardy called weakly after Ellie, who was standing up now and dialling a number on her mobile phone. He was trying to sound snarky and nonchalant but something told him that wasn't quite how he was coming off.

"Miller, what're you doin'?" he all but whined.

But Ellie ignored him, as her call was being answered. "Hello, this is DS Miller. Just calling to say that DI Hardy is going on sick leave for a couple of days. And I'm also going to take today off..." She listened to the answer, still not acknowledging Hardy's weak pleas, protests, and threats behind her. "Yes, it has been rather slow, hasn't it? OK, super, thanks." She hung up the phone and turned back to Hardy.

"I could've gone into work!" he started his objections again, which was slightly undermined by him shaking like a leaf as he suddenly found his bathroom floor to be a lot colder than just a second ago.

Ellie just smiled mock-sweetly. "Well, _that _is debatable, but it doesn't matter now, anyway, because you're not going into work for the rest of the week either way. What you are going to do is you're going to take a shower and change into this..." She had found a fresh pair of pyjamas in his wardrobe and put it on top of the sing. "And then you are going to go lie in bed like you're supposed to do when you're ill. And if you won't do what you're told then I _will_ treat you exactly the way you're behaving: Like a petulant child! Now... are you going to cooperate, or will I have to manhandle you into that shower and supervise you the entire time?"

Hardy had watched her sulkily from his place on the bathroom floor the entire time. He knew her very well by now and so he also knew she wouldn't hesitate to follow through on her threat.

He made a noise in the back of his throat which sounded like a sheepish "Alright..." and pulled himself to his feet again, this time a bit slower, and moved toward the shower.

"Close the door, would ya, Miller," he mumbled over his shoulder. She did and went to clean up the now more or less dried vomit on his bedroom floor while he put his dirtied pyjamas in the laundry hamper and leant against the wall of the shower, letting the hot water wash over him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! It turns out I'm not dead after all!  
First off, I'm really very sorry that I took this long to update. I've just been having a crazy couple of weeks (or months? oops) at school and I'm just generally trying to keep up with my life. So sorry if my posting schedule gets (already is) a bit erratic, but I promise I haven't abandoned this fic and am not planning to do so in the near future. It just takes me a little longer sometimes.  
And thank you all so much for the kudos and comments! Every time I read a new comment I was immediately inspired to write just a little bit more on this until I'd written a new chapter.  
I'll try to get the next chapter up a bit sooner this time, but I can't make any promises.

When Alec emerged from the bathroom with damp hair, wearing the new pyjamas and feeling a bit better (Well, not better, but also not like he was going to throw up again soon), Miller was nowhere to be seen.

He noticed, feeling slightly embarrassed, that she had apparently cleaned up the spot by the wall where he had passed out last night.

He heard some noises coming from the kitchen and sighed. It seemed there was no point in trying to convince Miller that he was fine and didn't need her around to fuss over him.

He contemplated going downstairs and grumbling at her for a bit about why was she still here and what was she doing, rummaging around in his kitchen and he could bloody well take care of himself, thank you very much. But then he supposed, all that would achieve would be him feeling even more exhausted and her having a go at him for being up and about.

So instead he gave in and climbed into the bed he'd so hastily vacated last night and huffily pulled the covers over himself. To his dismay, he found it rather comfortable and despite still feeling a bit queasy he had to work hard on keeping his scowl on when Miller came back into the room.

"Wow, you actually listened to me? I thought I was going to have to wrangle you back to bed," she said with a face that was a bit too cheerful for Alec's taste.

"I prefer not to be wrangled, thank you very much, and that is precisely why I chose to lie back down. Why are you still here, anyway?" The question came out a bit harsher than he'd intended, but Miller didn't seem fazed and he wasn't in the mood to apologise. 

"Well, I assumed that the second I take my eyes off you, you'll jump up and sneak off to work or do something else stupid."

"Fair enough." Alec had to admit that was probably a realistic assessment of the situation.

"Also, it's just what you do," Miller continued, "Your friend gets ill, you look after them. I did the same for Beth when her morning sickness got bad with Danny."

"I don't think this situation is comparable to Beth's pregnancy," he grumbled, trying to ignore the fact that she apparently thought of him as her friend."

"No, you're right," Miller conceded, "For one thing, Beth wouldn't whine so much."

"Whine?!" Alec whined incredulously but Miller ignored him.

"Plus, you're in way worse shape than she was. Now stop being so difficult and let me help you out. That's what friends are for... Besides, I was getting bloody bored at the office these days. I need a little change of scenery."

Alec sighed. There seemed to be no getting rid of her. "Fine. Stay then, if it makes ya' happy," he grumbled.

"Great! Do you think you can keep down some tea?"

His stomach turned at the mere idea.

"No!" he said quickly, "I don't want tea... Just leave me alone," he grumbled on, trying to make it seem like he was being difficult on purpose rather than admitting his weakness, but he had a feeling Miller wasn't buying it as she just nodded sympathetically and turned to leave the room.

\----

He dosed lightly for a while, but at some point he couldn't stay asleep any longer.

When he woke up his throat was absolutely parched. He waited a few more minutes but the thirst didn't go away. He sighed in annoyance and wrestled with himself for a moment. He didn't think he'd manage to get out of bed and get some water from the tap in the bathroom without getting dizzy and falling over again and that would bring Miller running. Besides, his head was killing him. Alec sighed.

"Miller?" he called tentatively, almost hoping she wouldn't hear him.

But the reply came almost instantly. "Yeah? Did you want something? she asked, poking her head through the bedroom door.

"Could you... could you get me a glass o' wa'er? Please?" he added sheepishly, swallowing his pride.

"Sure."

He gave her a slight nod in gratitude as she left the room. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all, but, God, he felt awful. He was kind of glad he didn't have to go into work today. Still, he thought, it wasn't Miller's place to decide, now, was it?

Just then she returned with a glass, which she put on his nightstand. "'ere you go. Need anything else?" she asked cheerfully.

"No... but thanks." Alec sat up and reached for the water. "You can leave me alone now," he added, feeling a bit uncomfortable with her just standing there watching him, but he was lacking his usual bite.

"Sure. Call for me, if you need anything." And with that, she left the room.

Alec was trying to come up with something sarcastic to say, but she was already gone and besides, he was too busy draining the glass. He was still a bit thirsty, but not enough to ask Miller for more. The cool liquid had done wonders for his throat, and even his headache seemed a bit less agonising.

He lay back down and closed his eyes for a bit. The bed suddenly seemed very warm and very comfy. Much more so than it had a few minutes ago. Maybe Miller was right and he should just have a bit of rest every once in a while. It didn't seem so bad. He should definitely have a little rest right now. Actually, maybe he should even try and get some sleep. He was certainly feeling tired...

\----

When Alec opened his eyes again it was dark outside, which was weird, as he could've sworn it was only around noon just now. He looked at the alarm clock next to his bed and it turned out he'd been asleep for six hours. He sat up. The smell of food was wafting through the house, which made him notice that he was suddenly extremely hungry.

"Miller?" he called quietly, but there was no answer. He cleared his throat, which made a spike of pain travel down it. "Miller?" he shouted, a bit louder, but she still didn't hear him.

Grumbling he decided to get up and look for her. When he got out of bed though, a wave of cold air hit him. Alec shivered. He didn't particularly want to go any further but he was also a bit restless now and didn't feel like lying back down.

Huffing indignantly, he pulled a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around him. His feet were still cold, but it would have to do.

As he stepped out into the hall, the smell of food grew stronger and he could now identify it as chicken soup, When he got closer to the kitchen he could also hear that the radio was on and some comedy programme was playing. Well, that explained why Miller hadn't heard him when he'd called.

He stood in the doorway for a few moments, watching Miller chop vegetables, unsure if he should announce his presence. The choice was made for him when Miller turned around and started.

"Bloody hell, don't sneak up on me like that!" she exclaimed, "What are you doing out of bed anyway? You'll catch your death... Well, more of it."

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I not allowed to walk around my own house anymore?" Alec grumbled and he was about to grumble some more when he noticed that Miller was trying (and failing) to hide a smile. "Wha''re you looking at?" he snapped grumpily.

"Nothing," she grinned, "It's just... You never wear anything but a suit and tie. I don't even think you own a T-shirt, and I'm so used to seeing you like that..." she paused for a fit of giggles, while Alec looked on, annoyed, "And now you're going around barefoot, wearing stripy pyjamas and a blankie." She was full-on laughing now.

Alec looked down at himself. "Wha' - It's cold. And it's not... it's not a 'blankie'," he sputtered making air quotes around the word, "it's a perfectly normal blanket. You're the one who's so bloody worried about me catching my death!" he added sulkily.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Miller wheezed, "It's just you look like a little kid who's had a nightmare"

He crossed his arms and waited for her to finish laughing. She eventually calmed down a bit and took a steadying breath. "It's a bit adorable."

"Adorable?!" Alec squawked, "I'm not adorable, I'm your boss. Have a little respect for your superior officer, Miller!"

She composed herself. "Of course, Sir, I have nothing but respect for you. Want some soup?"

He hesitated and scowled for another moment or two but eventually, he gave in to hunger.

"Yeah, why not..." he sighed, trying to sound exasperated, but not quite managing and sat down at the table.

**Author's Note:**

> This was only my second fanfic ever, and the first one for Broadchurch, so please let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome.


End file.
